On a Shore Weighing What Matters
by Caleb Westbrook
Closing my eyes, I smell the salt-licked air.
Leave the calendar leafs hanging like a criminal,
chores and choices nailed right and left of pending prayers.
Time will curl the pages regardless, above a sea primordial.
I am reduced to a simple thing,
lighted dark in the atmosphere of my mind.
Ride the winded flight of the moment’s wing,
spraying and splashing the cresting isochronal lines.
Close to the shore stand, close to the shore,
toes grasping the moss-wrecked rocks to feel.
Now: the clock’s only digit anymore.
Ocean rages at me; nothing is still.
Caleb Westbrook is a high school teacher with degrees in both English and religion. He lives with his wife and two children in Antigua, Guatemala. His poetry has been published in Havik, Nassau Review, Glass Mountain, Time of Singing, and Grim & Gilded; and his essays have been published online for Ekstasis and Dappled Things.
